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gone to a bunch of trouble to get me here. Frankie's been spending
more time in my favorite hangouts than I have. As much as I enjoy talking about
old times, I don't figure that's what you got me down here for. What can I do
for you?"
    His face crinkled into a smile. At least I hoped it was a smile.
    "You always were a cheeky kid, Leo. Always."
    "It's genetic."
    He nodded approvingly. "You're probably right," he agreed. He got
serious. "It played better on your old man than it does on you though,
Leo. Something about him put people at ease, the same way you put people on
edge." I waited.
    He rearranged himself, sitting up straighter, leaning on the arm closest to
me.
    "I got troubles, Leo. Troubles I can't handle in the usual way, if you
know what I mean." I waited for him to elaborate. He fixed me with a
stare. His black eyes were covered with a thin, blue, rubbery film.
    "None of this leaves this room. You understand me?"
    I understood. "Don't worry about it, Tim. For you or for anybody else,
I sell discretion. It's all I've got to sell."
    He smiled again. "I'm not worried, Leo. Besides that, it's the better
part of valor, right?" He laughed. I had to agree.
    "Not that you've been short on valor, Leo. You do nice work. You're
quite a local celebrity, you are. I been following you in the papers. I even
saw you on the TV during that court battle over them frozen babies."
    "Embryos. Frozen embryos."
    "You did good there, Leo. What was it the papers called it?"
    "The Leggo My Eggo Trial." Frankie chuckled.
    Although that particular episode was never going to appear on my résumé, I
let them have their fun. Compliments from Tim flood made me nervous. My angst
was interrupted by the arrival of dinner. The bruise brothers materialized with
a lap tray for Tim and a stand-up tray fro me.
    We ate in silence. Tim's tray looked more like an artist's palette. Dabs of
variously colored pastes were arranged about the plate. He worked methodically
from one to another. Mine was a steak, a baked potato, and an assortment of
parboiled vegetables, probably from a nearby restaurant. By the time I'd
finished, I was in a full runner's sweat. Tim's tray had disappeared. He was leaning
back, apparently napping.
    Frankie removed my tray. "You want coffee?" he asked.
    "No thanks. I try to move in one direction at a time."
    I watched as he left the room. When I looked back at Tim Flood, he was
sitting with his legs over the side of the lounger, his hands on his knees,
leaning in close to me.
    "It's my granddaughter, Leo," he whispered. "Gene's
girl."
    "What about her?" I asked. His daughter Gene, I remembered. We'd
been stuck at a lot of public functions together. It had been important to our
respective fathers that we get along. We'd been unable to oblige. I hadn't seen
her in over twenty years.
    "She's a wild one, Leo. In all my years, I've never met anybody like
this kid. She's into some deep shit. I can feel it."
    "What's she into, Tim?"
    "That's what I want you to find out, shamus."
    I was wary now. Tim could fix just about anything. If he needed me, it must
be a humdinger. Tim was shaking his head, reading my mind.
    "There's only Frankie and the brothers now. She knows them all, Leo. Up
until a few months ago, she lived here in the house with me. She was here
almost a year. No, it's gotta be somebody from the outside." He thought
for a moment. "Besides that, she'd family, Leo. You know what I mean? I
don't want to be mixing her up in any of this. It's gotta be from the
outside."
    "Maybe you better tell me about it." I don't know why I said it.
It was stupid. I regretted it the minute it passed my lips. Probably the
bourbon. I'd been planning to refuse gracefully. Now it was going to be tough.
If I let him tell me the story, there'd be no backing out. I tried to head him
off. Better now than later. He started to speak. I stopped him.
    "Just so we understand each other, Tim. I haven't agreed to anything
yet. If you want to tell me this, tell me.